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  • Artiest: Insane Clown Posse
    Song: My Fun House

  • 
    Rich boy's in trouble
    Car broke down on a drive through the ghetto
    All the weird people, you gotta get the fuck out
    Need to use the phone, step into my funhouse
    Hey yo, dope, looks like we got another
    He'd like to go for a ride on the neck cutter
    Straight to the cart for the next spectacular
    Just to know, it's a dead body sittin next to ya
    Get ready for the carnival thrills
    Should of cut your little faggot ass in the hills
    Boom! through the door into the room, you gotta check it out
    It's where we cut your fingers off and stick em in your mouth
    That should show you that you greedy little rich fuckIf you're bucking with
    the juggla you're a dead duck
    Eight fingers in your mouth and two sticking out your nose
    Further down the hall, the room with jokeros
    That's where you get by seventeen wicked clowns
    For the seventeen dead bodies never found
    And they jump on your back until your ribs crack
    Toss you in the cart and push you down the deli tracks
    Spinning and twisting, rolling and bumping
    The dead fuck next to ya is trying to tell ya somethin
    Listen close, you can barely make it out
    "Bitch, you ain't shit in my electric funhouse"
    
    "Help me, I'm trapped in here. Somebody let me out.
    Oh my god!!! Aaaaaaahhhhhh!!!!!!"
    
    "Come here, rich boy
    My head is spinning 360 degrees
    Richie richie richie
    Come here"
    
    "Bitch, fuck you, yeah, know what I'm saying
    Wicked clowns running the funhouse
    Ain't no way to get out until the killer gets your neck cut like a man"
    
    Pick a card, any card, any motherfucking card......A joker's card
    Sorry, bitch, the luck of the draw
    Violent J's gonna have to ice your jaw
    Snap, bang, snip, boom
    Send that motherfucker off to the next room
    Crash through the doors on the windy spinny trail
    Through a loop-de-loop and into a big nail
    Straight through his left eye and out the back of his head
    Is he dead?
    No, cause he has to go to the next phase
    It's the room of giggles because of your ways
    You like to sit and laugh at people when they suffer
    Well, now you sit and watch me laugh when I stick your mother
    It's the funhouse, bitch, everything's funny
    You act like whipping on your ass ain't funny
    And the ride of your life only gets faster
    Off to the R-r-r-ringmaster
    I take my bobo gun and blow your fuckin mouth in
    Eh, yo, the next room, it's called the chicken pen
    And it's a little tribute to the bigots of the south
    We take a dead chicken shove it in your mouth
    And we stuff it down your throat with a pitchfork
    Cuz you're a big gut, that's what you get for it
    Now I take your sorry ass and I throw you out
    Cuz I don't need your dead body stinkin up my funhouse
    Funhouse, stinkin up my funhaugh!